They gazed at the little shack,
and the family who lived there.
Nobody moved.
The sides of the shape – frozen.
Nobody’s gettin’ out,
or in,
here.
I yelled: “Scan the periphery of your life, little shack!”
“Notice the eyes in the woods of the night!”
“There are a few in there who will let you out!”
“The owl hoots for your freedom.”
“The birds rise with the sun and call you forth to a new day!”
The sharpness of the gaze held them there.
I wept. Then, whispered:
“These plants over here are rare and mystical.”
“Harvest their bounty and let their seeds bear you fruit.”
They glanced at the edges of the forest,
and moved for a better view.
They dreamed that night,
of fullness.
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